


The Moment After

by Dee_Laundry



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-09
Updated: 2008-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt:  Admitting the truth</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment After

**Author's Note:**

> Speculative fic for episode 4-15, "House's Head," based on spoiler photos, written BEFORE the episode aired. **Warning for character death.** Written for the drabble-a-thon, prompt: admitting the truth.

Cuddy had been by House's hospital bed for ten minutes, holding his hand for over five, trying to drag him, _will_ him back into coherence. "C'mon," she murmured. "C'mon, you stubborn son of a bitch."

House wouldn't look at her, wouldn't move. He was lost in the drugs they'd given him, in his own head, and she needed him back. He'd solved the case too late, for which she was sorry, but he couldn't leave her now.

"C'mon," she pleaded and squeezed his hand harder. He didn't squeeze back, but he was holding on. That was her solace: him holding on.

The door rumbled in its track as it opened. Wilson. Him being here meant only one thing; the tears that had been threatening began to pool in her eyes.

His face was stone-dry, though. Somber and serious, but his head was held high, posture erect, stride purposeful as he moved to the other side of the hospital bed.

"House," he called, and his voice astonished Cuddy. It was matter-of-fact, direct, with no hint of emotion other than determination. She couldn't read Wilson at all in that moment, and she found herself grasping House's hand even tighter.

Blinking, House tilted his head down and then up toward the man standing next to him. He blinked again, and the spirit had returned to his eyes. "Wilson," he replied weakly.

Cuddy couldn't help smiling at House and reaching a hand to his shoulder, so the blur of blue fabric speeding through her peripheral vision startled her.

Wilson's fist connected with House's jaw with a sickening crack; House's head lolled toward her, eyelids closing; and Wilson turned away, walking out as resolutely as he had walked in.


End file.
